Ascendance
by Cyrus Snow
Summary: The Light of the Imperial City is gone as the flames turn to ash. The Imperial Family destroyed in that same burn. The Daedra, having grown wearisome of their waiting, now give aid to the Thalmor. The Dragon Fires lay cold and unlit. The Amulet of Kings, shattered. Time is now another enemy against the Dragonborn's hope of ascension.


"All right, men. It's time to deliver the final blow to the Stormcloak rebellion. You have all fought bravely, and sacrificed much to bring us to this point. Ulfric thinks he can hide behind the walls of his castle. But we will fight our way in and drag him through the rubble to face justice. Because this is the end for them!"

Arrows clanged against the shields of my fellow Legionnaires in a deluge of metal and wood, our shields protecting us from being impaled by the sharpened bolts.

"The Stormcloaks will fight like cornered rats. They will be fierce and crafty. But they are no match for Veteran legionnaires! You are the best and brightest warriors in Tamriel! Professional soldiers, fearless, and devastating! The Emperor will be paying close attention to what happens here today. Men who distinguish themselves will be well rewarded! Ready now! Everyone with me! For the Legion! For the Empire!"

The legionnaires surrounding me cheered and smashed their swords against their shields with eager tenacity.

I simply unsheathed my blade, and prepared for the bloodbath that was to come.

"Bring in the ram!"

The formation parted as the large battering ram, ironically enough in the shape of a dragon's skull, moved tortuously slow to the gates.

Flaming arrows rained down from the parapets onto the ram, but none were able to pierce or set alight the wet canvas that protected it.

"One… two… three… push!" The ram was pulled back and thrust against the ancient gates of Windhelm. The doors shook, but did not give.

"Again, men!"

"One… two… three… push!" Once again, the ram was pulled back and thrown forward against the gates. The gates refused to yield to the might of only four legionnaires and a ram.

The prolonged assault of flaming arrows was beginning to be problematic, as the wet canvas would soon catch from the unrelenting flames.

The gate needed to be opened, and soon, or else the battle would be lost before it even began.

"Make way!" I bellowed as I ran under the arrow fire and through the sea of cloth and steel.

"Heave, men!" The ram was being pulled back by the legionnaires once more, but it would be futile, and they would not have enough to time to do so again before the ram would be lit aflame.

Soldiers with iron buckets threw water onto the canvas cover in an effort to extinguish the flames on the arrows, but the tar-drenched arrows were refusing to be put out.

"One… two… three…"

"Hold, Prefect!" I screamed as I neared the ram.

"What is it, Legate? We need to break down the gates _before_ the flames claim the ram!"

"I know, Prefect!" I snarled, "Leave this to me."

The men waited for new orders. "On my mark, men!"

"One… two… three… push!"

"Fus… ro dah!" as the men threw the ram forward, I added my **T**hu'um to the ram's momentum, nearly shattering the cradle as the ram smashed against the gates, splintering the ancient wood as the iron bent and cracked, ripping the gates open in a fanfare of grinding metal and creaking wood.

"Goodwork, Legate!" General Tullius commended me**,** as our forces flooded through the crippled gates.

I chased after the legionnaires and into the Capital of the Rebellion, Windhelm; the oldest city in Skyrim and possibly the oldest Nordic city in all of Tamriel.

The symphony of war was deafening- swords crashing against shields, metal piercing flesh, and the cries of war and the cries of the dying. The entrance of the city was already saturated with the blood of the dead and dying.

Without a word, I strode calmly into the warzone. My blade became a harbinger of death as I slashed, hacked, stabbed, and tore at the Rebels' throats and chests.

"Die, Traitor!"

A large Nord, with the pelt of a bear draped around himcharged me with a great sword.

I deflected his heavy downward blow with my shield and slashed at his unprotected bicep, forcing him to drop the large sword and grasp at his arm in pain and shock.

"I am not the one who has betrayed my kind." I thrust my sword down onto the man's neck, piercing his spine and windpipe. I dug my sword out of the dying man's throat as he choked on his own blood.

"It is you who has betrayed our kind." I stated with finality.

I stumbled forward as a heavy weight knocked me onto my hands and knees. I rolled off to the right just in time to see an iron warhammer crack the cobblestone walkway where my head was an instant before. I jumped up and deftly dodged another lethal swing from the warhammer.

"Fus!" I Shouted at point blank, causing him to stumble backwards into a cauldron, catching his blue tunic alight and forcing him to drop his warhammer in a futile attempt to douse the flames. The dry cloth and fur was engulfed in flames quickly and he fell to the ground, writhing.

He did not get up.

I turned away from the burning rebel to an archer aiming for Legate Rikke to my near left.

I threw my steel shield like a discus, knocking the archer off of the roof of the tavern and falling onto one of the pointed wooden defenses, impaling the man, causing him to quickly bleed out.

"Victory, or Sovngarde!" I spun swiftly and hacked down hard into the shield of another rebel general.

With no shield for counter balancing, I stumbled back against a stone outcropping near the left corridor of Windhelm.

"Die, _Imperial Dog!"_

Without my shield to protect me, I had to block with my sword, forcing me to be on the defensive.

The General continued to pummel me with his sword, trying to tire my arms to break my guard. I had to end it quick.

"Su Grah Dun!" My throat felt as if I was placing it against a grindstone, but I felt the air carry my limbs and quicken my movement beyond sight.

In a flash, my sword went from a diagonal guard, to my side, drenched in blood.

The General had stopped mid swing, a look of shock painting his countenance as he fell to his knees, his head rolling before his torso hit the stone.

"Legate, sir," I looked up from the dead general to one of my legionnaires, Gnaeus I believe, was reporting in, "We've secured control of this section of the city. Reinforcements are due any minute, sir."

"Excellent," I stepped over the body of the fallen Stormcloak officer, "this rebellion will be over before Meridia raises the moon tonight."

We made our way past the bodies of both fallen rebels and Legionnaires, paying close attention to not step on any of the dead out of respect.

After the first area, there was a disturbing lack of Stormcloak activity, only the occasional party to impede our progress to the Palace of Kings.

This news worried Legate Rikke, General Tullius and myself.

Our concerns were made true as we turned out of the alley and into the entrance to Ulfric's stronghold.

"By the gods…"

"Talos save us…

"What in Oblivion…"

Legionnaires all around me began to curse and whisper upon the sight of what appeared to be over four hundred Stormcloaks in formation guarding the Palace doors.

"Men, formation!" The Legionnaires were shocked out of their stupors from the commanding tone of General Tullius.

"Death to the Empire!"

As the men began to line up and organize, the Stormcloaks threw themselves into a zealous frenzy and surged forward.

I vaulted the Legionnaire in front of me, and felt the shout build in my throat. My mind grasping at the shout's power, exponentially increasing it as I focused upon the same three words over and over in my mind, my meditations with Paarthurnax high atop The Throat of the World replaying in my head.

I opened the eyes I do not remember closing, a fierce fire raging in them as I glared at the approaching Rebel Force. I felt Nirn bend to my will as I forced the power into existence.

"Yol… Toor Shul...!"

My Thu'um resonated across the city, and a wall of fire greeted all those that stood in the path of it.

The fire soon died, and I fell to one knee, gasping at the effort used to bring out a shout of that intensity. Fire Breath was the one shout that always tired me the fastest, and tore at my throat like nothing else.

Once the smoke lifted, only around ninety Stormcloaks stood unscathed, all others were either heavily burnt, or charred beyond recognition. The Legionnaires threw forth their war cries and charged down upon the remaining Rebels, their morale back up after their Legate decimating their enemies' ranks.

"You alright, Eirak?"

I glanced up and saw Legate Rikke standing over me.

"Water…" I croaked out weakly.

Rikke reached down to her pack and brought out a waterskin. She uncapped it and handed it to me, which I accepted gratefully.

I greedily chugged the soothing nectar as it cooled me down and slacked my parched mouth.

I stood up cautiously, making sure as to not fall over and look weak in front of the men.

"Thank you, Rikke, I needed that desperately." I said sincerely, handing her back her waterskin.

"Not a problem, Eirak," she replied, "You're a fellow legionnaire and a damn good one at that."

I reached into my own pouch in my Imperial steel armor, and pulled out a small flask of red liquid that glowed eerily.

"I would bring along more of these if they weren't so gods damn expensive…" Grumbling, I tore the cork off of the flask, and downed the potion in one gulp.

"And foul tasting to boot."

Price and taste aside, the potion did its job as small cuts cleared quickly and my throat no longer felt on fire.

"Are you ready, Legate?"

I glanced my head back, just as General Tullius walked past and into my field of vision.

"As ready as ever, sir." was my curt response.

"Then let's make our way into the heart of this beast, and stop it from ever beating again."

The General, Legate and I hugged the edges of the ongoing battle, avoiding combat so we would be battle ready against Ulfric and his lieutenant, Galmar Stone-Fist.

Our party reached the door and we braced ourselves to open them.

I looked over and nodded to Rikke.

"On three?" I questioned.

"On three."

"One… two… three!" We both raised our right legs high, and roundhouse kicked the large doors. The strength of two Legates was just enough as the lock on the door splintered, and finally gave after a hard shove from the General.

We were greeted by a low and gravely voice from across the throne room.

"Ah, and so the Imperial Triumvirate finally makes their appearance. I was seriously beginning to doubt all those death threats you were sending me, Tullius."

General Tullius merely grunted in affirmation as we slowly and cautiously made our way to the other side of the room.

"I heard your Thu'um out there, Dragonborn." I tensed as I felt the air become charged with a familiar power."

"After a shout like that you should have no defense against this…"

"Eirak!" I heard Rikke scream, as time seemed to slow.

"Fus ro dah!" the energy of the unrelenting force roared on rapidly towards me as I stood stock still as the wave neared.

I was suddenly ripped from my stupor when a pair of strong arms shoved me out of its path. I look up in time to see the General take the shout head on, and was thrown against a stone pillar. He collapsed onto the floor, but the slow, lethargic movements of his limbs showed he was only downed, not dead.

"Tullius!" Rikke threw her head toward Ulfric, "You'll pay for that, traitor!"

"Dragonborn, do you see the humor in this?" Ulfric asked me while spreading his arms.

"Do you not see the humor in a war of Imperials versus Nords over the control of Skyrim, and the deciding battle is between four Nords? This is how it shall _truly_ end, the Sons and Daughters of Skyrim will decide her fate!"

Ulfric unsheathed his waraxe with calm determination, not a single once of strength was being exerted that did not need to be.

"Rikke, you take Galmar, Ulfric is mine."

"Acknowledged, Auxiliary." She smirked.

I smiled back as we neared our opposition. Auxiliary was once an insult, but it eventually became almost an inside joke between the Legate and I.

Rikke and I split as we neared the dining table, Rikke taking the right and I took left, each of us taking our respective opponents.

"So this is how Skyrim falls, Dragonborn? Felled by the hero who was to save her. A fitting ending, I suppose." Stated Ulfric simply.

"Enough of your incessant prattling." I barked back.

"Ah, so the Dragon _does_ have a spine. Now lets see if it has teeth to match!"

Ulfric charged, closing the gap before I could react, bringing his waraxe down hard on my sword arm. I blocked the blow with my Bracer, but the shock left the arm feeling numb and sluggish.

It was followed swiftly with a follow up blow to the chest; the blade pierced the armor, but stopped just short of my chest. I grabbed Ulfric by the shoulders and head butt him, the iron plume of my officer's helmet cutting deep into the circlet on his head.

The force of the head butt forced Ulfric to stumble back and ripped the axe from my armor, a gaping hole where the blade went in.

Seeing an opening, I rushed forward, raising my sword as I ran, and lunged with a hard uppercut at the Usurper. Ulfric recovered too quickly, however, and blocked the lethal swing with his waraxe.

Ulfric parried another swing at his abdomen, and closed the gap. I was unable to retrieve my shield, and now Ulfric was playing it to his advantage.

"Gah!"

Ulfric swung downwards onto my sword, forcing it down. He then used the momentum to swing back up and slash at my left bicep, shredding a deep gash.

I retaliated by slashing at his right forearm, leaving a thin trail of blood on my sword.

I stood ready, my sword in a diagonal block, the tip faltering occasionally from the numbing pain in my forearm and my left arm dangling useless at my side.

'_That cut is deeper than I first believed.' _I thought to myself grimly_._

Ulfric fared no better.

He was breathing heavily, his forearm bleeding profusely, and a small line of blood trickled from his hairline.

Ulfric, ever the aggressor, charged headlong at me, his waraxe held high. He brought the weapon down and glanced the blow off my blade, causing him to fall forward with his momentum.

I spun around, and saw Ulfric struggling to regain his balance from the failed swing.

"Fus!"

The added shout was enough to knock Ulfric over, and sent his waraxe skittering across the stone floor.

Not one to kill a man while he was down, I waited for Ulfric to stand before charging him once again. A hard swing to the side and Ulfric dodged around the blade.

"Ahh!"

He grabbed my sword arm and, using my own force against me, twist my arm behind me and forced me to relinquish my grip.

He tossed me to the ground, my helmet clanging against the floor as it slid away. I wearily stood up, my limbs screamed in protest as Ulfric and I charged each other; I threw a haymaker at the Jarl's head, causing him to whiplash and spit blood. Unable to dodge, Ulfric returned a hard uppercut to my jaw, and I heard a crack as my head was thrown back.

Stumbling like a drunkard, I reset my jaw with a resounding '_crack'._

Ulfric, the larger of the two of us, used size to his advantage as he relentlessly pummeled my unprotected head, my left arm useless and my right unable to block every blow.

Ulfric reeled his arm back, and grabbed my right arm with his left hand, shoving the numb limb out of the way, and slugged my in the face, a horrible crunch was heard as my head was thrown back, and my body followed suit, onto the stone floor.

I sluggishly shifted on the ground, my limbs refusing to obey my commands to get up and fight again. I opened the eye that wasn't bruised to oblivion, and witnessed Ulfric walking towards my prone form.

He grabbed me by the throat, and hoisted me to eye level. "Imagine, the great Dragonborn of Legend, defeated by a lowly man. Oh, how the Bards will sing!"

The edges of my vision were beginning to blur, as Ulfric's words seemed to blend together into an obscene mass of sounds that began to make no sense. His vice grip was iron, and I no longer held the strength nor breath to move.

"This will be remembered as the day Skyrim won! The day that the Empire- gah!"

My vision was black as Ulfric dropped my body like a sack of produce onto the floor. Gasping for breath, my vision slowly returned, to see Ulfric writhing in a pool of blood, his own waraxe in his back.

I turned to where the axe had come from, and saw General Tullius nodding slowly at me, propped up against the wall. He had recovered from the hit and Ulfric's axe must have slid near him.

'_Divines, that was too close._' I thought cloudily.

I my gaze slowly traveled across the room until I focused my sight onto the fight between Rikke and Galmar. Galmar had been disarmed, but he was using his sharp gauntlets as makeshift weapons against Rikke.

"Mid…" I said between gasps of air as I felt my throat burn once again.

The effect was immediate as Rikke slowly over powered the Stormcloak General, her steel sword going deep into his throat, painting the throne with his blood.

Rikke looked around to see if I needed help against Ulfric, but quickly noticed the state I was in, and rushed over with a potion already in hand.

She rolled me over onto my back, and placed a knee under my head as she poured the potion down my throat. In the amount of pain I was in, I didn't even notice the awful taste.

I lay on the ground for a few more moments, feeling the minor wounds and internal bleeding clear up and mend.

I began to sit up, and Rikke tried to help, "I'm fine… I'm fine… Just… Tend to the General…"

Rikke gave me a withering look, but ultimately complied as she strode over to General Tullius, and helped him to his feet.

I got up onto one knee, and then the other. Cautiously, I stood. Satisfied I could stand and walk without the need of assistance, I searched around groggily for my sword before finding it impaled on a sweet roll. Sliding the sugary treat off of my sword and cleaning it on the skirt of my armor, I placed it back into the safety of its sheath.

I joined Rikke and Tullius as they stood over Ulfric. He had dislodged the axe from his back, but Rikke kicked it away, refusing to let him be armed again.

General Tullius cleared his throat. "You killed High King Torygg, and threw Skyrim into chaos. Now I will do what the headsman would have done in Helgen all those months ago."

"Wait," Ulfric said weakly, "let the Dragonborn do it. It'll make for a better song."

Tullius glanced over at me, and I nodded. This '_revolution'_ had taken too much from me.

'Take my sword," Tullius said softly, "and make sure the bastard's trip to Sovngarde is without a head."

I was handed a blade made of pure Ebony, the black metal glinting against the lights.

"Ag Mahfaeraak, Jun kriid."

I raised my arm, and brought down the black blade. Ulfric's head hit the floor first.

"Well, I suppose the men will want a speech…" General Tullius grumbled.

Battered, bruised, but victorious, the three of us walked slowly out of the Palace, and into the waiting congregation of Imperial Troops.

General Tullius waved for Rikke to let go of him; he limped to the front of the legionnaires.

"Today marks the end of this damned rebellion! Ulfric's head rolls and his lieutenant's throat slit!"

The excitement in the air was palpable as the men cheered and Tullius continued.

"You have all fought bravely! Your efforts will be well rewarded-"

"General Tullius! General Tullius!" a voice shouted from the assembled soldiers.

General Tullius grimaced. "Who here had the _audacity_ to interrupt? Stand forward!"

A lone legionnaire, a messenger it seemed with his light imperial armor and no shield, but a scroll.

"I bring tragic news, sir!" the messenger shook from the hardened glare of the General.

"Well, out with it then!" Tullius prompted.

"The Emperor is dead! Emperor Titus is dead!"

(-*-)

Fus ro dah – force, balance, push (Unrelenting force)

Su grah dun – air, battle, grace (elemental fury)

Yol toor shul – fire, inferno, sun (fire breath)

Mid - loyal (Battle fury)

Ag Mahfaeraak, Jun kriid – Burn forever, king killer.


End file.
